


Tender Places

by Nice_Valkyrie



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Deepthroating, Established Relationship, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 01:56:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17674217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nice_Valkyrie/pseuds/Nice_Valkyrie
Summary: Kimblee would never dream of denying Riza's requests.





	Tender Places

**Author's Note:**

> Pure porn without a plot in sight.

The first time he tried to put a hand on Riza Hawkeye’s throat, he was rebuffed immediately. She knocked his wrist aside as carelessly as swatting a bug. Kimblee hardly noticed at the time, engrossed as he was in fucking her. It was only after he had seen her out of the building that he recalled her objection, and began to entertain it more seriously.

He could not pretend his interest in controlling her breath was entirely altruistic, but it seemed an activity she could enjoy, too; a natural extension of the submission she was all too ready to grant him in their sexual relationship. So the next week, as he lay on top of her again, he moved his hand to cover her mouth. As he had hoped, Riza’s eyes went wide, but her hands did not move from his back. Her breath wheezed through her nose and her sudden groans were muffled. She came quicker than usual, and after, as they both lay on her bed panting and warm with sweat, Kimblee broached the subject.

“I’m not letting you choke me,” she said flatly.

“Why not?”

An incredulous laugh broke from her. “If you can’t figure that out, you’re not half as smart as you think.”

“You enjoyed what I did just now.”

“That couldn’t have killed me.”

Kimblee walked his fingers up her shoulder to her collarbone. “I never hurt you more than you ask.”

But Riza grabbed his wrist as soon as the first finger alighted on her neck. “No.”

This aggravation again. She had been the same way with sodomy: a fast orgasm the first time he fucked her from behind while stroking the hole with a wet thumb, and then a seemingly endless string of tedious arguments before allowing him to penetrate her there with a finger. Now she occasionally took his cock, but that was only the most recent of the sex acts she could finally admit to enjoying after a long refusal. One day she would allow Kimblee to tie her hands, and to smack her somewhere other than her backside. The whole script was exceedingly familiar.

So, instead of reminding her of all she already trusted him to perform, Kimblee tucked an arm behind his head, looked up at the water-stained ceiling of Riza’s apartment, and waited.

“Besides,” she said at last, “I can’t come to the office with visible bruises.”

Kimblee remembered her fury when he had sucked and bitten too hard; the coldness with which she turned from him when she found the gorgeous purple mark on her neck.

She was right. He would let his fingers bruise her.

“I don’t have to use my hands,” he said.

“How in the world not?”

“A cock far enough down the throat does an excellent job blocking the airway.”

“That doesn’t sound possible.”

“It's the truth.”

The sheets rustled as Riza shifted.

“Hm,” she said.

He left the idea floating there in the space between them. Mere suggestion, although he thought about it continuously until their next tryst, three days later. During intervening days he did not see her; she was an ordinary lieutenant, a woman who had never had any interest in fucking him. He supposed she would scoff that she even crossed his mind during those times.

Well, he could scoff at her, too. Riza should not have feared being killed at his hands. He was far too fond of fucking her to even entertain the thought of ending their little affair prematurely.

When they met again—in his apartment, which was closer to command, but more spacious—he had considered a few different avenues by which to erode her reluctance further. But they went from his mind when she tugged him down by his collar and began kissing him, pushing herself against his hips. Then Kimblee's only concerns were their bodies. Riza had so many tender places, and as she reached up to take his hair out of its tie, Kimblee’s hands found them. Her breasts were heavy and warm, her ribs delicate and close to the surface, and when fingers were run down her waist just so, she would shiver delightfully and scold him.

“I want to,” she said, breaking the kiss.

“Hm?”

“I want to try what you suggested," she said, and she sank to her knees.

And then he understood that, even within the false life she acted on her own, she had been thinking about it too.

“No reason to be hasty,” said Kimblee, reaching for his shirt buttons. “Dress isn’t called for at this event.”

She did not need to be nude for this, of course, and sometimes it was better half-clothed and rushed. It had been that way frequently at the beginning, back when Riza was still pretending her sexual appetite was limited to the mundane and readily forgotten. She could not discard him so easily now. Kimblee felt confident, watching her slide off her brassiere, that there were few other men for whom she had ever been so willingly helpless.

Certainly no others permitted to take this particular liberty.

Kimblee was forced to remove his own trousers, because Riza showed no inclination to attend to that particular task, but Kimblee cared not at all once her mouth closed over him. She rarely performed this act for him, but there was no uncertainty as she sucked the head of his cock. When he rested a hand on her head, Riza slid down until was at the back of her throat, and then, carefully, accepted the rest as he pushed in.

In the sudden deep heat, Kimblee fought to keep his breath even and his hand light. If he grew rough too quickly, she would startle, and it would take more convincing next time. When Riza gagged and made to pull back, he let her, despite the protesting ache in his cock.

“Relax,” he ordered. “Stop fighting me.”  

She shot him a warning glance, but tried again, more slowly. This time she managed not to gag, and when her mouth was free she said, “All right.”

Kimblee kept his thrusts lazy, letting almost his entire length slide from between her stretched lips before pressing it all back in. Riza’s hands found the backs of his thighs—for stability? for some semblance of control?—and when she tapped one he dragged her off his cock reluctantly.

“Difficulty getting enough air?” he asked dryly as she panted.

“Some.”

He brushed a few distracting strands of hair back over his shoulder. “So I was correct?”

“If only you had as much trouble speaking,” she said sourly.

Kimblee laughed and pushed his cock between her lips again, tightening his grip on her head. He could be less gentle now. Riza kept her eyes open and fixed on his face, even when the thrusts began to make them water. He decided there were few things he liked better in bed with her than the vision she presented now. He liked the way her eyebrows pinched together. He liked the dripping saliva. He liked the sounds she made most of all: urgency when she needed air, desperate relief when he finally gave it to her.

“More,” he said.

Riza swallowed her noise of protest along with his cock. Kimblee fucked her mouth steadily, holding her head firm with fingers laced tight through her soft hair. This time, when she tapped his thigh, he pulled her in close instead, groaning as her throat spasmed around him and she tried to retreat. When he let her go, she began coughing, and he thought he had rarely seen her so wonderfully humiliated: wet lips and chin, flushed cheeks, and eyes full of hatred.

“Scowl all you want. You’re enjoying this.”

Her face turned steadily redder, he observed gleefully, the longer he kept her on his cock.  It was even better when he forced her to its base and thrust quick and shallow. That made her gag again, and her mouth and throat working furiously around him were rapturous.

“You must be very wet,” he told her, and saw from her anger that he was right. He did not bother allowing her to catch her breath, shoving down her throat again immediately. “Are you lightheaded from choking, or is it just the helplessness?”

Riza’s eyes were huge and shiny, and despite the strain in her face, she was hardly glaring now. She moaned faintly, which was the best invitation to brutality Kimblee could imagine. He seized the roots of her hair and drove in wildly. No resistance, no threat of teeth, just the hard pounding and the incredible endless clench of her throat. “You like being at my mercy, don’t you?” he demanded, and she took it all, so pliable, so obedient and quiet—

Kimblee groaned in frustration and pulled out, shaking her a little as she gasped. “Riza,” he said. “That’s no fun. Stay here.” He patted one of her hands, which had seemingly frozen in their grip during his frenzy. “Scratch my legs. Unlike you, I’m not afraid of being marked.”

Some of the vacancy in Riza’s expression cleared. She swallowed, looked up at him again, and said hoarsely, “Aren’t you finished yet?”

“That’s my girl,” said Kimblee.

Riza clutched at him as he started for the last time. Now she was with him again, and as Kimblee fucked her mouth he felt every bit of her humiliation twice: in the tightening of her throat and the nails raking down the backs of his thighs. He could only find his breath in strange gasps, as the thrill of the impending orgasm shivered and sparked across his skin. He grabbed her jaw in warning and then, all caution abandoned in the rush, slid the hand down to touch her neck.

It was all over then, and he came shuddering down her throat, holding her close with his fingertips pressed against the soft skin.

Riza choked slightly, but when Kimblee slid his spent cock from her mouth, it was clean. His knees felt gelatinous, and he watched Riza struggle to rise for a few seconds before graciously offering her his arm.

“You owe me,” she said, wiping her chin.

“But of course. Whatever you request.”

He swept her damp hair from her neck, and she did not rebuke him when his fingers lingered. Kimblee hid his grin. Yet another tender place for him to touch.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also check out [An Alchemist's Offering](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457271), where Kimblee blows King Bradley. Good fic.


End file.
